


The Third Time

by dadmiraljokes



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-22
Updated: 2013-11-22
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dadmiraljokes/pseuds/dadmiraljokes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Topher called Adelle Dewitt “Mom”, it was a joke. The second time, it was an accident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Time

_Adelle looked around her at the people strewn over the broken ground; babies waking up. Her heart began to swell, ninety-nine parts grief, one part overwhelming pride._ That's my boy _. He had done it. The people around her were confused, shocked to their core at the sight of the unfamiliar surroundings. They had only just gone to sleep. They couldn't remember a thing- except her. They remembered her, and a few pairs of eyes lit on her face; a few hands reached out toward her._

“ _Miss DeWitt,” one said, but she didn't hear them. She was staring up at the building that had been her home for such a very long time; where she had made her family. She couldn't tear her eyes away. She felt a presence materialise at her shoulder, a presence that had once made her feel cold._

“ _You'd better go up,” said Alpha in his soft voice. She looked at him, eyes wide and shocked._

~

Topher sat at his desk, slumped over on his arms and snoring gently- Not exactly what she payed him for, but with the results he was producing, she wasn't one to complain. Nevertheless, it was time to close-up-shop, and in the three weeks since he'd been hired she hadn't quite gotten him under her thumb yet. He started awake when she dropped his coat in his lap, that startled-welsh-corgi expression on his young face. 

“Get your things, Mister Brink," she said, "we're going to dinner.”

The restaurant was at the casual end of incredibly-high-class. Topher's eyes widened with self-consciousness as one of the impeccably-dressed staff collected his garish red coat.

“I didn't think they let people like me in places like this,” he murmured as he sank into a seat.

“Why shouldn't they? You're one of the Richest People In The Country, after all,” Adelle replied disinterestedly, opening the menu; delicate eggshell card embossed with gold. The thought caught him by surprise and a delighted smile crept across his face.

“Hey! I am!” he exclaimed, before leaning forward and adding, “How do you do that, by the way?” 

“Do what?”

“Talk in capitals like that, it's crazy.” The waiter approached the table, inclining his head towards Adelle.

“Can I get you anything to drink, ma'am?”

“Whiskey on the rocks,” she replied.

“I'll-” Topher raised his hand to get the waiter's attention, rather like a schoolchild, “have a beer. The good stuff,” he added playfully.

“He'll have water,” Adelle interjected sternly. Topher looked rather affronted, frowning and rocking back in his chair.

“Okay,  _Mom_ ,” he gave a high laugh, before sitting forward. “You know I may not look it but I am, in fact, over twenty one.”

“It's not that. I intend to get very drunk tonight and  _someone_  has to drive the car.”

“Right.” He was relatively quiet until the food arrived, peering around at the other patrons, small smiles flitting over his face like clouds; private jokes and snarky comments he had the good sense to keep to himself. When he saw her plate, however, he couldn't contain himself and burst out with; “You paid thirty dollars for a pile of leaves?”

 _~_  

“ _I thought you would have been long gone by now,” Adelle said, looking back up at the building. “It's nice to see that you aren't insane again,” she added, lightly._

“ _Yeah well,” Alpha shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Echo and me are pretty tough,” he drew level with her, following her gaze, “and we all know you're made of sterner stuff than most of us. So the question is; why are you still here?” She looked back at him, face drawn with grief and exhaustion._

“ _I know he's the only one of us you ever really cared about,” Alpha said, quietly. _His eyes were sad and weary._ “If you don't go up now, you'll always wonder.”_

~

It was no shock, really, that the drug infected them both. They always seemed to find an excuse to touch each other. There was nothing even remotely romantic about it, yet if Dominic or Langton were to try anything of the sort, she would have had them sent to the attic without a second thought. With Topher, however, she hardly noticed.

For her part, she was fond of his hair. It was fine and soft, not to mention chronically out of place. If she were leaning over his shoulder to peer at a computer screen her hand would immediately go to it, smoothing it down. He never minded; quite the opposite. He threw her brief, disgruntled glances whenever she stopped playing with it. For him, it was a brief touch on the arm, or the shoulder, a quick touch to say “ _you can trust me with your billion-dollar-business-and/or-life_ ”. 

Now, Adelle was seated on the programming-room couch, holding a cold can of soft-drink to her aching head. Her shoes still lay discarded. Her dignity she had recovered, but she didn't quite feel well enough yet to stand up and retrieve them. Topher shuffled into the room, face pale and covered in a sheen of sweat. He'd just been in the bathroom, no doubt emptying the contents of his 'drawer of inappropriate starches' into the plumbing.

“Mom would it be okay if I lay down for a couple of minutes?” he asked weakly. She stared at him blankly for a second and his face blanched even further. “I mean- Mrs DeWitt-  _Miss_. Miss DeWitt. I'm sorry. I'm not...” He closed his eyes, swaying on the spot. “I'm not feeling very well,” he finished, mumbling. 

She half-rolled her eyes, grabbing his wrist and sitting him down next to her. He lay his head in her lap, hopelessly adding “please don't fire me,” in a whisper.

“Vomit on my skirt and you'll wish I had,” she replied, her hand settling on his hair.

~

_Adelle forced her way back into the crumbling building. The doors were mostly unlocked, or unhinged, so the only real obstacles in the way of accessing the maintenance staircase were fallen debris. The months on the fringe had hardened her, though. She was stronger, now. Her hands were calloused and less prone to bleeding. It only took her ten minutes or so to reach the top. Her old office was cracked and smoking. She couldn't see a body but she didn't know how powerful the blast had been- could it have vaporised? No she couldn't think that. She just couldn't._

_Desperation was pounding through her veins when she finally caught a glimpse of him. What was left of him._

~ 

It's time for me to meet Caroline,” said Echo gravely. “It's time to win her war.” 

With that, the rest of them filed out of the room, expressions dark and determined. Adelle went over to her desk and let out a sigh of relief. Only when the door closed and she glanced up did she realise Topher was still there.

“So you, uh. You didn't sell your soul to Rossum after all, huh?” he let out a weak laugh. “That whole power-hungry monster thing was an act?” 

“I needed to secure my position,” she replied, clearing away the paperwork that lay on her desk. “If I hadn't, this house would have come crashing down around our ears by now.”

“So giving that world-destroying tech to Rossum, that was for 'securing your position'?”

Adelle sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I didn't have a choice,” she said. When she looked up again she was surprised to see the boy's eyes filled with tears. He looked embarrassed by them, half-turning away from her, a hand covering his mouth. She felt her heart drop out the bottom of her stomach, and stood. “Topher?”

“It's nothing, I'm actually relieved more than anything, it's just-” a few tears trickled out, leaving red trails down his cheeks. He forced out another laugh. “You were  _really_  mean.” His voice sank to a whisper on the last word, tears flowing in earnest now even as his accusing eyes held hers. He wiped his cheeks with his sleeves. She let out a short breath, crossed the space between them, and took him into her arms for the first time. After a moment of surprised hesitation, he hugged her back, tightly.

“I'm sorry I went behind your back,” he mumbled into her shoulder, “with the whole Echo and Victor mind-meld thing? You were drinking and, and I was scared, and I'm sorry I called you a bitch-”

“Shhh,” she murmured. Then, swallowing the lump in her throat; "I'm sorry too."

~

 _She sprinted over to his prone body. He was lying on his front, hands around the back of his head in some panicked attempt to protect it. His fingers were charred and blistered. His clothing had burned, melted. His hair, his beautiful hair was gone, the back of his head burned and bleeding. Her breath caught in her throat._ No, no, no _. She gently turned his head. His face was untouched -the explosion must have hit him from behind- his features as soft as she knew them._

“ _Darling,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. She knew he couldn't hear her._

_Then a whisper, a voice cracked and bleeding._

“ _Mom?”_


End file.
